Two by Two

CHAPTER 10: Moving Forward

When I was a kid, summers were the most glorious time of life. Because my parents believed in hands-off, free-range parenting, I’d usually be out the door before ten and wouldn’t return until dinner. There were no cell phones to keep track of me and whenever my mom called a neighbor to ask where I was, the neighbor was often just as clueless as to her own child’s whereabouts. In fact, there was only one rule as far as I could tell: I had to be home at half past five, since my parents liked to eat dinner as a family.

I can’t remember exactly how I used to spend those days. I have recollections in snapshot form: building forts or playing king of the hill on the high part of the jungle gym or chasing after a soccer ball while attempting to score. I remember playing in the woods, too. Back then, our home was surrounded by undeveloped land, and my friends and I would have dirt-clod wars or play capture the flag; when we got BB guns, we could spend hours shooting cans and occasionally shooting at each other. I spent hours exploring on my bicycle, and whole weeks would pass where I’d wake every morning with nothing scheduled at all.

Of course, there were kids in the neighborhood who didn’t lead that sort of carefree existence. They would head off to camp or participate in summer leagues for various sports, but back then, kids like that were the minority. These days, kids are scheduled from morning to night, and London was no exception, because parents demanded it.

But how did it happen? And why? What changed the outlook of parents in my generation? Peer pressure? Living vicariously through a child’s success? Résumé building for college? Or was it simply fear that if their kids were allowed to discover the world on their own, nothing good would come of it?

I don’t know.

I am, however, of the opinion that something has been lost in the process: the simple joy of waking in the morning and having nothing whatsoever to do.

“What’s the problem with the commercials?” Joey Taglieri asked, repeating my question to him. It was Tuesday morning, tennis lesson number two. Still angry at me from the night before, Vivian had left that morning without speaking to me.

“The problem is they’re boring,” he said. “It’s just me, talking to the camera in an overstuffed office. Hell, I fall asleep watching them and they cost me a fortune.”

“How would you make them different?”

“When I was a kid, my family lived in Southern California for a few years when my dad was still in the Marines. Hated it there, by the way. So did my mom. As soon as he retired, my family moved back to New Jersey. Both my parents were from there. You ever been to New Jersey?”

“I think I flew out of Newark a couple of times.”

“That doesn’t count. And don’t believe all that crap you see on reality TV about Jersey either. It’s a great place. I’d raise my daughter there if I could, but her mom’s here and even if she’s a coldhearted shrew, she’s pretty good as a mom. But anyway, back to Southern California. There was this car dealer named Cal Worthington. Ever heard of him?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Old Cal Worthington had the greatest commercials of all time. Every commercial would introduce him and his dog Spot-except that Spot was anything but a dog. Spot might be monkey or a lion or elephant or whatever. There was even a killer whale once. Old Cal had a snappy little jingle that was impossible to forget, with a refrain that went, Go see Cal, go see Cal, go see Cal. Hell, I was eight years old and didn’t give a crap about cars and I wanted to go to the dealership just to meet the guy and maybe see a few exotic animals. That’s the kind of commercial I want.”

“You want elephants in your commercials? And killer whales?”

“Of course not. But I do want something that people remember, something that makes some injured guy in a Barcalounger sit up and say to himself, ‘I gotta see that guy. I want him to represent me.’”

“The problem is that legal commercials are regulated by the bar.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I also know that North Carolina generally falls on the advertising-is-free-speech side when it comes to regulations. If you’re in advertising, you should know that, too.”

“I do,” I said. “But there’s a difference between coming across as a professional and competent attorney that you can trust, and a low-class ambulance chaser.”

“That’s exactly what I said to the idiots who made the commercial. And still, they came back with something that’s best described as let’s put the viewers into a coma. Have you even seen them?”

“Of course I have. And actually, they’re not that bad.”

“Yeah? What’s the office phone number then?”

“Excuse me?’

“The office phone number. It’s there on the screen the whole time. If the commercials were so great, what’s the number?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bingo. And that’s the problem.”

“They probably remember your name.”

“Yeah. And that’s another problem. Taglieri isn’t exactly the most southern of names, you know, and that might turn some people off.”

“There’s not much you can do about your name.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my family name. I’m just noting another problem I have with the commercials. There’s too much of my name and not enough of the phone number.”

“Gotcha,” I said. “What do you think about other forms of advertising? Like billboards, websites, Internet ads, radio ads?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t much thought about it. And I only have so much money to spend.”

“That makes sense,” I said, suspecting that any more questions would do more harm than good. On the court, I watched London trying to volley with another girl, but there was more chasing after tennis balls than actual volleys.

“What does your wife do?” Joey asked into the silence.

“She works in PR,” I said. “She just started a new job for one of the big developers around here.”

“None of my wives worked. Of course, I work too much. Opposites attract and all that. Did I mention that you should always have a prenup?”

“Yes.”

“It allows for none of the financial torture that those of the fairer sex like to inflict.”

“You sound jaded.”

“On the contrary. I love women.”

“Would you ever get married again?”

“Of course. I’m a big believer in marriage.”

“Really?”

“What can I tell you? I’m a romantic.”

“So what happened?”

“I tend to fall in love with the crazy ones, that’s what happened.”

I laughed. “I’m glad I don’t have that problem.”

“You think so? She’s still a woman.”

“And?”

I had the sense Joey was trying to read me. “Hey,” he finally said, “as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

On Wednesday night after dance class, London was predictably glum as she crawled into the car.

“Tonight, since Mom’s away, how about we have pizza for dinner?”

“Pizza isn’t good for you.”

“As long as you don’t eat it all the time, it’s fine. When was the last time you had pizza?”

She thought about it. “I can’t remember. When is Mommy getting home again?”

“She’ll be home tomorrow, sweetie.”

“Can we call her?”

“I don’t know if she’s busy, but I’ll send a text okay?”

“Okay,” she said. In the backseat, she seemed smaller than usual.

“How about we go out for pizza anyway, just you and me? And after that, we’ll stop and get ice cream?”

Though she didn’t say yes, she didn’t say no either, and we ended up at a place that made a decent thin-crust pizza. While we were waiting, Vivian called using FaceTime, and after that, London’s mood began to lift. By the time we hit Dairy Queen she was chatting away happily. She spent most of the ride home talking about her friend Bodhi and his dog Noodle, and how he’d invited her over to his house so he could show her his light saber.

My first thought was that my daughter was far too young to be shown any boy’s light saber; the next thought, which came an instant later, was that it was likely one of the playdates that Marge had suggested I set up, and that the light saber wasn’t a metaphor but an actual play sword inspired by the Star Wars movies.

When we got home, London ran up the stairs to see Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles and though I expected her to stay up there for a while, she appeared in the living room a few minutes later.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can we go bike riding again?”

I stifled a groan. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to stay glued to the couch.

“Of course we can,” I said instead, and as I stood, I suddenly remembered that Vivian had said that she’d wanted to watch London ride her bike the night before, but she must have forgotten.

Right?

London made three turns on her own. Wobbly, but she was able to regain her balance, and even during the other turns, I had to help less than I’d had to before. On the straightaways, I’d barely touched her bicycle at all. Because she was growing more confident, she rode faster, and by the end of our session, I was panting and sweating, my shirt soaked through.

“How about you take a bath upstairs while I take a shower downstairs?” I suggested. I wasn’t sure what to expect. The last time Vivian was out of town hadn’t gone so well.

Tonight she simply nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

I cleaned up and by the time I reached her room, London was sitting on the bed in her pajamas, the brush and bottle of detangling spray beside her. After the detangler worked its magic and I was finished with her hair, I propped myself against the headboard.

I read Two by Two along with a few other books. I kissed London goodnight, and as I was about to turn out the light, I heard her voice again.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“What’s day care? I heard you and Mommy talking about it.”

“Day care is place where kids go when their moms and dads work, so that grown-ups can make sure you stay safe.”

“Like a house?”

“Sometimes. But other times, it’s in a building. They have toys and games and activities, and a lot of kids really like it because there’s always something fun to do.”

“But I like being with you and Mommy.”

“I know you do. And we like being with you, too.”

“Mommy doesn’t. Not anymore.”

“Of course she does. She loves you very much. She just has to work.”

“Why does she have to work?”

“Because we need money to live. Without money, we couldn’t buy food or clothes or toys or even Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles.”

She seemed to think about that. “If I give them back to the pet store, can Mommy stop working?”

“No, sweetheart. It doesn’t work that way.” I hesitated. “Are you okay, sweetie? You seem kinda sad.”

“Mommy’s gone again. I don’t like it when she’s gone.”

“I know you don’t, and I know she’d rather be here with you, too.”

“When you were working, you always came home.”

“Our jobs are different. She sometimes has to work in different cities.”

“I don’t like it.”

I don’t either, I thought. But there wasn’t much I could do about it. Changing the subject, I put my arm around her. “You were so great riding your bike today.”

“I was going super fast.”

“Yes you were.”

“You could barely keep up.”

“Daddy could use more regular exercise. But I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“It’s fun going fast.”

“Is it more fun than… piano lessons?” I asked, wiggling her slightly as I said the final two words.

She giggled. “Yes.”

“Is it more fun than… tennis?”

“Yes.”

“Is it more fun than… dance?”

“Yes.”

“Is it more fun than… art?”

“Yes,” she giggled. “But it’s not more fun than Bodhi.”

“Bodhi! Biking is WAYYYY more fun than Bodhi.”

“No it isn’t. Bodhi’s WAYYYYY MORE fun.”

“No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” She giggled. “And I want to go to his house!”

By then, I was giggling, too. “Oh, no,” I said. “I think you’re WAYYYY too little to go over to BODHI’S house.”

“No, I’m not. I’m BIG!”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes, yes, yes. I’m big enough to go to Bodhi’s house.”

“Okaaaay,” I said, “I guess I can ask his mom about that.”

She beamed before putting her arms around my neck.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, baby girl.”

“I’m not a baby.”

I squeezed her tight. “You’ll always be my baby.”

After turning out her lights and thinking I’d reached the point where I couldn’t keep up with London any longer, I went to the garage and rolled my bicycle out of the garage. I’d had it for years and like London’s had been, it was more neglected than damaged. I cleaned and oiled it, added WD-40 to the sprockets, and filled the tires before giving it a test ride.

Good enough, I thought, and heading inside, I perched my computer on the kitchen table. Pulling up YouTube, I watched a dozen different Cal Worthington commercials, thinking Taglieri had been right; the jingle was snappy and old Cal always had his dog Spot, which was always an exotic animal. The spots were memorable, but the whole thing came across as hucksterism at its finest. It’s no wonder a kid would want to meet the car dealer, but I wasn’t so sure that it would inspire the confidence necessary to land clients as an attorney.

I watched Taglieri’s commercials again. Afterward, I jotted the number on a pad of paper, and matched the numbers to the letters, wondering if I could come up with a word or two to make the phone number more memorable. Nothing leapt immediately to mind with the number he had, but if he added a second toll-free number, there might be something I could do. I thought first of simply spelling his last name, but there were eight letters and seven numbers, so that wouldn’t work, even if people could remember how to spell Taglieri, which was doubtful. I might be able to do something like W-I-N-4-Y-O-U or T-A-G-I-S-I-T or maybe even B-U-L-L-D-O-G, but none of those seemed exactly right. I hoped something better would come to me.

While I knew Taglieri’s business would benefit from other forms of advertising, I focused first on the commercials because I knew it was a language he’d understand. How, then, to make them better-and different enough-to entice him to make the switch? I spent the next couple of hours jotting down various ideas until they began to solidify: Ditch the office and the suit; instead, let’s show Taglieri outside the courthouse, in a sweater, looking neighborly, like someone who really cares. Similar script, but more… familiar and casual in mood and tone.

Definitely different, but then again, I wasn’t sure it was quite up to the level of Cal Worthington either. Maybe it was because I was tired, but even as I continued to tinker with various slogans and ideas for images, my mind kept wandering to the ludicrous. You wanted raw hucksterism? How about you dress up in a superhero outfit and crash through doors to take on the evil insurance executives? Or how about I drape you in an American flag with images of bald eagles to show how trustworthy you are? Or maybe I’ll have you do cool things, like break through blocks of wood like a karate expert, to show how you’re ready to do whatever it takes to win?

As the images rolled through my mind, I found myself occasionally laughing, even if I couldn’t imagine ever using them. Creativity and originality were fine, but people who were injured didn’t want slapstick. They wanted experience and tenacity and trust, and I was struck by the notion that instead of trying to do all of that in a single commercial, it might be possible to capture those ideas individually in a series of commercials…

To me, it seemed right, and I felt my heart thump in my chest. I wondered if Taglieri would be interested in something like that. And if I could persuade him to sit down for a pitch, I knew I’d need to lay out the idea for at least two or three commercials. The first would be reminiscent of what he was doing now, but the second and third ones?

They had to be different and while one would be short, the other should feel like a special event, the kind of commercial that would only run every now and then, the kind that almost tells a story…

I could feel the gears turning, the beginning of an idea, and I continued to develop it over the next couple of hours, bits and pieces coming together.

As to the third commercial-a short one, using humor and focusing on a single theme-the idea leapt to mind just as I was shutting down the computer. Like magic, I was struck with yet another idea a few minutes after that, the creativity beginning to flow.

Feeling good about myself, I turned out the lights an hour later and though it took a while for me to fall asleep, once I was out, I slept better than I had in weeks.

“So you’re saying that you want to take your pitch on a test drive, and I’m the sucker you’ve chosen?”

It was Thursday morning; Joey had dressed down today, in shorts and a T-shirt, just like me. And still, he was sweating through his shirt.

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way.”

“You know I’m a busy man, right? I don’t know if I can handle any more business.”

That was a new reason for rejection and I wasn’t sure what to say. He must have seen my expression because he laughed.

“I’m kidding. I gotta get as many people as I can to walk into my office so I can find those nuggets that actually pay the bills. I’ve got three associates and three paralegals, and that means the bills are high. My specific area of law has become a volume business these days, even if it means sifting through all the nutjobs for a surefire winner. I need people calling the office and walking through that door.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you. I can help.”

“How long would it take you to put something together?”

“I’ve already got some general ideas,” I admitted. “It wouldn’t take long at all to finalize everything.”

He looked me over. “All right. Monday afternoon. One o’clock. I’m in court the rest of the week, and the week after that.”

I couldn’t fathom waiting that long, even if it meant that I’d be buried in work the next three days.

“One o’clock it is,” I agreed.

“Just remember, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t waste my time. I hate when people waste my time.”

That afternoon, knowing the presentation had to be as informative as possible with far more specific detail than the ones I’d done last week, I went to work. Though I was going to present a plan that offered a broad campaign in a variety of media, I started with the commercials because it seemed to be Taglieri’s main area of interest. My first step was to start with the script and after the first drafts were complete, I began to cut and paste together generic images I pulled from the Internet, so Taglieri would be able to follow the flow of the commercials in the way I imagined. While I worked, London was content to play with her Barbies, but I worked from the kitchen table, so I could keep an eye on her.

Vivian rolled in a little past five. I gave her a quick rehash of my day before she spent some time with London and made dinner. It was only after I got London in bed that Vivian and I were able to get some alone time. I found her on the couch, flipping through a magazine, a nearly empty glass of wine on the end table beside her.

“Did she go down okay?”

“She was tired. Only a couple of books tonight.”

“How’s your work going?”

“There’s a way to go, but I’ll get it done.”

“I noticed when I pulled in that you fixed up your bicycle.”

“I want to be able to ride with London.”

“She said that the two of you went riding again.”

“She rode. I ran and almost died. Hence the repairs on my bike. She’s getting pretty good. I can’t keep up with her anymore.”

“She’s got a lot of energy.”

“Yes she does.”

She turned a page. “I was able to make some calls to day cares while I was out of town.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling a mixture of astonishment and relief, along with a stab of guilt I hadn’t expected. Our previous discussion of the matter had led me to believe she’d never call at all. “When did you have the time?”

She nodded. “When Walter was meeting with Senator Thurman. But it was just a preliminary call. I didn’t schedule any appointments though because I wasn’t sure about my travel schedule next week.”

“You’re traveling next week, too?”

“I think so. But I’m not sure what days yet.”

“When do you think you’ll find out?”

“I’m hoping by tomorrow, but who knows? I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”

I didn’t know how Spannerman could believe that scheduling last-minute overnights was fair to employees, but then again, my experience of him told me that he probably didn’t care.

“What did the day cares say?”

“I didn’t speak to them very long. I just wanted a sense of some of the activities they offer, how many kids are there, things like that.”

“Did you feel comfortable with them?”

“They seemed okay. The people I talked to were conscientious, but even they told me that we couldn’t get a real sense of the places unless we actually visited.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “How was your trip, by the way?”

“Productive. In addition to the senator, Spannerman met with two different representatives, and our lobbyist. Now that the PAC has more funding, it’s a lot easier to meet with the people we need to.”

“That’s not a surprise.”

She shrugged. “So you had pizza last night, huh? And ice cream?”

“I figured she’d enjoy it. She wasn’t in the best mood after dance.”

“She’ll like it more once she starts competing. That’s when I started to like it.”

“You used to dance?”

“I’ve told you that before.”

Not that I could remember. “How long did you dance?”

She continued to flip through the magazine. “I don’t know. Two or three years? What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I was just making conversation.”

“It’s not a big deal. My teacher was nowhere near as good as London’s. I wish she would have been. I probably would have kept at it longer.” She reached for her glass. “Would you mind getting me another half a glass of wine? I’m exhausted and I really want to be able to sleep tonight. Especially since I promised to make up for our date night.”

“Yeah,” I said, glad she remembered. “Sure.”

I rose from the couch and went to the kitchen, returning with a half a glass. By the time I got there, Vivian had turned the television to a reality show, and though we sat together for another hour, she retreated into silence, content to watch her show and flip through the magazine, as if I weren’t there at all.

Friday morning, and as soon as I woke, my thoughts flashed to the presentation. I was out of bed minutes later, and as I’d done the day before, I worked from the kitchen table until it was time to head to art class. While London was painting, I parked myself at the coffee shop, and lost in thought, I didn’t notice the passage of time. The next thing I knew, London’s class was over.

Oops.

I gathered my things and walked quickly to the studio, feeling relief when I spotted London and Bodhi in the corner, heads together. I was about to call out to her when I saw Emily watching me with an amused expression.

“Hi, Russ.”

“Oh, hey Emily. You’re still here?”

She smiled, looking relaxed. “I saw you in the coffee shop a few minutes ago, and you looked pretty intense with whatever you were working on. When you didn’t show up, I thought I’d wait until you got here to make sure London was okay.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

“No worries. Believe me, my son was thrilled that you’re late.”

“Where is he?”

“My son?” She motioned in London’s direction. “He’s talking with your daughter.”

I suppose I should have seen the resemblance; now that I knew, I could see it clearly. “Bodhi’s your son?”

“Small world, huh?” As we watched them, she went on. “They’re so cute at this age, aren’t they? They’re just so… innocent, you know?”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“No hamsters today?”

“Was I supposed to bring them?”

She laughed. “Not that I know about. But Bodhi loves Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles. Ever since she brought them, he’s been asking me if we could get some hamsters, too.”

“Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, London wants to play with Noodle. And see Bodhi’s light saber.”

“Don’t get me started on the light saber. Bodhi brings that thing everywhere. He started to cry when I wouldn’t let him bring it into church last weekend. How’s your work coming?”

“It’s going well. I’m hoping to finish this weekend. How’s your painting?”

“It’s been hard to get back into the rhythm. Tough couple of years, I guess.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed. “I haven’t been able to swing by the gallery to see your work yet.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I’m guessing that between work and London, you’re on the go pretty much every day. London’s schedule is packed. Dance, piano, art, and now tennis.” When she saw my expression, she went on. “What can I tell you? Bodhi talks about her all the time. He wants a playdate.”

“So does London, but frankly, I’m not even sure how to go about setting up something like that.”

I sensed her amusement. “It’s not that complicated, Russ,” she said. “We talk about it. As in, what’s your schedule like? Do you have any time on Monday afternoon? Can London come over?”

As soon as she said it, I knew it would be perfect. But…

When I didn’t answer, she went on. “Do you have something else planned?”

“No,” I answered, “it’s not that. Actually, I’m supposed to have a presentation at one o’clock.”

“Then it’s perfect. I can pick her up here and bring her to the house. I’ll feed her lunch and let the two of them hang out until you come by to get her.”

“Isn’t that almost like babysitting? Since I’ll be off working?”

“That’s called a happy coincidence. Let’s plan on it, okay?”

“Are you sure? It feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

She laughed. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You worry too much about things you shouldn’t. You don’t think that if I had something to do, I wouldn’t find someone to watch Bodhi?”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’ll help me out a lot.”

“I’m happy to do it, and Bodhi will be thrilled. Of course, he’s going to be super excited all weekend, so I’ll have to deal with that. And speak of the devil, here they come.”

I watched the two of them scampering toward us.

“Mom?” Bodhi asked. “Can we go to Chick-fil-A for lunch?”

“Sure,” Emily answered.

I felt London tug on my sleeve. “Daddy? Can we go, too?”

“You want to go to Chick-fil-A?”

“Please?” she pleaded.

I sensed Emily waiting for an answer, but I couldn’t tell whether she was happy or bothered by the idea that I might join them.

“Yeah,” I said. “We can go.”

Chick-fil-A was bustling. London and Bodhi ran off toward the climbing play area while Emily and I made small talk in line. After picking up our order, we called the kids over and they wolfed down their food before rushing back to the climbing area.

“I like coming here because it helps Bodhi get some of his energy out. He’s been a little rambunctious ever since his dad left. His dad isn’t around much and it’s been hard on him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“It is what it is. There’s not much I can do about it.”

“Is there a way to talk to your ex into spending more time with him?”

“I don’t see how. He moved back to Australia last April. Of course, he’s coming in the week after next and he’ll be in town until the third or fourth week of September. Some big project or whatever, and he said he’d like to see Bodhi as much as possible. Which is great, but it’ll throw Bodhi’s schedule out of whack until then, and after that, I have no idea when he’ll be back. I have no idea how Bodhi’s going to handle his dad leaving again.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to be one of those women who talk nonstop about their ex.”

“Sometimes it’s hard not to, especially when it comes to kids.”

“I know you’re right, but it still gets boring. Hell, I get bored hearing myself talk about it.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “So how about you tell me exactly what you’re working on. You were completely zoned in when I saw you.”

“It’s a presentation for a prospective client. An attorney, and it’s kind of a big deal for me. My business hasn’t exactly taken off the way I wanted it to.”

“I’m sure he’ll love your ideas.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because you’re smart and creative. You always were. They’re your gifts.”

“I always thought you were the creative one.”

“That’s why we got along as well as we did.” She shrugged. “Well, until the end, anyway.”

“How does this painting thing work?”

“You mean as a profession? Or how did I get started?”

“Both. I knew you were passionate about painting, but you told me you thought you’d end up getting your master’s and teaching somewhere.”

“I just got lucky. After you and I broke up, I went a little crazy there for a while and all I did was paint. I took all the hurt and angst I was feeling and somehow got it down on various canvases. By the end, they were stacked in my parents’ garage, and I had no idea what to do with all of them. I wasn’t even sure any of the paintings were any good. A little while after that, I met David and life moved forward, and eventually, I heard about this festival of the arts in Greensboro. I decided on a whim to rent a booth and even before I finished setting everything up, I met a gallery owner. He examined all my work and agreed on the spot to bring in some of my work. Within a month, it had sold out.”

“That’s amazing,” I said.

“Like I said, I was lucky.”

“It’s more than luck. But it makes me feel bad.”

“Why?”

“Because I was the cause of all that hurt and angst. What I did to you is still one of my biggest regrets and I’m sorry.”

“You already apologized for that a long time ago,” she responded.

“I know. But still.”

“Guilt is a wasted emotion, Russ. That’s what my mom tells me, anyway. Besides, I could have probably handled it better, too.”

“You handled it fine.”

“If you say so. What I can say is that my career wouldn’t be where it is without that experience. And my marriage wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, either. Let’s just say I had to learn to forgive.”

“David had an affair?”

“Not just one. Many.”

“Why did you stay?”

She nodded toward Bodhi. “Because of him. David may have been a terrible husband, but he was also Bodhi’s hero. Still is, I’m sure.” She paused before she shook her head. “And there I go again, talking about my ex.”

“It’s all right.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You know what the hardest thing is about being divorced? It’s like I’m not even sure what it means to be a single, independent adult. I pretty much went from you to David, and now here I am, with no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. Between work and Bodhi, it’s not like I have time to hang out in bars or go to parties. And frankly, that’s never been my style anyway. It’s just that…” I could see a trace of sadness in her expression as she searched for the right words. “It isn’t the life I ever imagined. Half the time, I feel like a stranger in my own skin.”

“I can’t imagine what it would be like to be single.”

“I don’t like it. But believe me, the other option is sometimes even worse.”

I nodded, unsure what to say. In time, she sighed and went on. “I’m just glad I’m able to work from home. Otherwise it would have been harder on Bodhi than it already is.”

“He seems like a happy child to me.”

“Most of the time, he is. But every now and then, he melts down.”

“I think that’s true of every child. Even London can throw a mean temper tantrum.”

“Yeah?”

I told her about the previous weekend. When I finished, Emily wore an uncertain expression.

“Wait a minute. When Vivian got home, she didn’t take London to the blueberry farm?” she asked.

“She said it was too hot so they went to the mall instead. London didn’t seem to mind. I think she was happy because her mom was home. She’s still getting used to the idea that Vivian is working while I take care of her.”

“From what I can tell, you’re doing a good job with her.”

“I’m not so sure. Half the time, I feel like I’m faking it.”

“So do I. That’s normal.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I love Bodhi, but it’s not like I wake up excited about bringing him to the dentist or helping him clean his room or running him here and there. That’s normal. It’s the stuff of parenting.”

“I still feel like I’m not doing enough. Yesterday and this morning, I worked and pretty much left her on her own. I mean, I was there and kept an eye on her, but it’s not like I spent meaningful time with her.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure she was fine. And you’ll get better at the whole balance between work and parenting thing. Look at today. You successfully set up your first playdate.”

That I did. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll pick her up from your place as soon as I’m done.”

“Sounds great.”

“Of course, you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re going to need my address, aren’t you? And my phone number?” She reached for her phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the info.”

I gave it to her just as the kids reached the table.

“Hi, Mom. We’re done,” Bodhi announced.

“Did you have fun?”

“We climbed to the top.”

“I saw that. You’re a great climber. And guess what? London is coming over on Monday to meet Noodle.”

Both of their faces lit up. “Really? Thanks, Mom! Can she bring Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles?”

When Emily looked to me, I raised my hands. “It’s your call. But they have a travel cage.”

“Why not?” Emily answered. “I’m sure Noodle will just love that.”

I laughed before we said our goodbyes, and as London and I began walking to the car, I felt a twinge of unease at the thought that I’d had lunch with Emily, something I hadn’t done with Vivian in a long time, and that the conversation had seemed anything but forced.

But I was probably making too much of it, wasn’t I?